


The Heist

by Neuropsyche



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bank Robbery, Gen, Just a drabble, Ned is a hero too, Peter is Spiderman, Tony is Ironman, a little Peter whumping, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-11-02
Packaged: 2021-01-13 02:22:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 10,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21236561
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neuropsyche/pseuds/Neuropsyche
Summary: Peter and Ned are in the bank - so are bank robbers and something in the vault that the robbers really want to get their hands on





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This isn't going to be long, it's just something that I wanted to write out. Not Starker, but you can use your imagination and make it that way, if you want. There isn't any sex in it, either way

“This place is huge…”

Peter nodded his agreement, looking around the bank.

“Kind of reminds me of Gringotts.”

Ned smirked.

“You’re such a nerd, Peter.”

“What?” he grinned, surreptitiously gesturing to the guard that was standing back at the door they had just walked through. “He could be a goblin.”

“I’m going to tell him you said that.”

Peter made a grab for Ned as his friend turned toward the door, again.

“Stop,” he hissed, still amused, since he knew Ned wasn't serious and was just messing with him.

“Buy me lunch and I’ll keep it to myself…”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He’d been planning to buy lunch, anyway. “But we’re not eating steaks.”

Ned shrugged. “I’m okay with tacos.” He put his hand out. “Let me see your check, again.”

Peter preened, handing over his first real paycheck.

“Don’t lose it. Tony said they’ll take a month to re-issue it if I lose it.”

“He was probably just doing that to make sure you were careful with it.”

The two boys walked to the back of the long line waiting to talk to one of the three tellers working the bank, just then, and the woman ahead of them smiled at them.

“Hi.”

Peter smiled, self-consciously.

“Hi.”

“We’re depositing a check,” Ned told her, trying to act casual. “My friend is an intern. For Stark Industries. He just got paid.”

She smiled at that.

“So did I. Paydays are always fun.”

Peter nodded.

“It’s my first one. So far, I _like_ it.”

The woman’s smile was amused. She looked at the paper in Ned’s hand.

“Did you fill out a deposit slip?”

“A what?”

She pointed to a table off to the right, a little.

“A deposit slip. You put your account number on it, and how much you’re depositing.”

“Oh.”

“We knew that,” Ned told her, smoothly. “We were just… testing _you_.”

He tugged on Peter’s arm, and his friend rolled his eyes at the woman, who snorted, indelicately at the two boys.

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

He let Ned drag him over to the table, and they sorted through the various stacks of papers until they found a blue one labeled as a deposit slip.

“What’s your account number?” Ned asked Peter, picking up a pen.

“It’s on my phone, hold on.” Peter reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone and pulled up his notes. “It’s 544-41225-34.”

Ned was writing it down, and Peter grinned. Before he could say anything, though, there was a loud booming noise as someone came rushing through the doors, slamming them open so hard that it shattered the glass in both. The first person was followed by a small army of others – five in total. They were all dressed in black. All wearing masks, and all of them were holding weapons.

The security guard was hit with one of the gun butts and pushed out the door, which was closed behind him by one of the men.

Peter stared, and Ned started to say something – but Peter jerked on his jacket, just as the one in the front aimed the shotgun in his hand toward the ceiling and fired it. The result was incredibly loud in the acoustic area of the bank lobby, and there were several screams of surprise. “Everyone stop right where you are,” a cold voice said, loudly. “The first person who moves is going to die.”

><><><><>< 

“Jesus.”

It was an almost automatic thing. Ned ducked, even though there wasn't any place to go – the table wasn't that big, after all – and it drew the attention of the man who had spoken. The gun in his hand tracked the motion and Peter stepped in front of his friend, both hands up, face pale.

“Easy… he’s not moving.”

The eyes showing behind the mask narrowed, and the shotgun stopped, pointed right at Peter.

“On the floor,” the man said. “Now.”

Peter pushed Ned to the floor, and sprawled next to him.

“What do we do?” Ned asked, turning his head and watching as four of the five robbers walked by them to move to the counter. The fifth stayed where he was, watching the room. “We need-“

There was a soft cry of fear, and Peter and Ned saw that a woman behind the counter had been grabbed and was being hauled out from behind the safety of the barrier.

“No talking!” one of the masked figures yelled. “Everyone slide your phones and wallets toward the center of the room. Now.”

There was a lot of clinking and rustling as all the people on the floor, scattered in every section of the bank, but mainly toward the middle where they had all been in line, started complying. Ned pulled his phone and practically flung it to join the others, and Peter’s followed only a moment later.

“What do we do, Peter?” Ned whispered, hiding the question in the clattering of so many phones crossing the marble floor.

Peter was watching the one with the shotgun.

“Nothing. Just be cool. They’ll get what they want and go.”

Everyone’s phones were traceable, nowadays. The robbers would probably end up ditching them rather than be caught with them. Probably they were just gathering them to keep anyone from actually calling for help, somehow. It was wise of them, really – even though they didn’t know that Peter had a direct line to a lot more help than five guys could handle. No matter how many guns they were holding.

><><><><> 

Peter wasn't the only one to watch as one of the masked men dragged the terrified woman toward a door to the side. She was struggling against the hold, telling them that she couldn’t open the vault that it was on a timer, and the man with the shotgun glanced at his watch.

“We’re behind,” he snapped to the others. “Hurry up.”

Ned turned his head toward one of the other desks and gasped, silently, when he saw that a man had hidden behind that desk. Only the fact that Ned was on the floor allowed him to see him, and the bulky wood kept all of the robbers from seeing what he was doing. Ned jabbed Peter’s side with his elbow to get his attention without turning his head, again.

Peter turned from where the woman had vanished with two of the masked figures and followed Ned’s gaze, just as the man behind the desk pressed his finger against the underside of the desk – clearly triggering a silent alarm. The two boys looked at each other. Things were going to get a lot crazier if the robbers were still there when the police responded to that alarm.

They’d seen enough movies to know that it was inevitable.

<><><><><>>

“Where’s Peter?”

Tony smirked, looking up at Pepper.

“Probably at Taco Bell, by now.”

“What?”

“Today is payday.”

“Yes. I know.”

“Well, it’s his _first_ paycheck.”

“Yes. I know _that_, too. _So_?”

“So he told me that he and Ned were going to go to the bank and deposit it, and then Peter was going to take Ned to Taco Bell to celebrate.”

“Does he have a bank account?”

“He does. I set it up in his name last week.”

“Why didn’t we just direct deposit his pay?”

“Because then he couldn’t take the check to the bank himself,” Tony explained, rolling his eyes, amused. “It’s more exciting, this way.”


	2. 2

The man with the shotgun was watching everything going on around them.

Peter’s mind was going through a million different possibilities of things that he might try, but he wasn't that far away from the guy with the gun – and none of the things that he thought of started with him being able to move without putting himself and Ned – and all the people around them – in danger.

He was learning from being exposed to the Avengers, after all, and knew that it wasn't okay to do something dumb and get someone innocent injured – or _worse_.

There were two men at the cashier windows, yelling at the tellers to fill their bags with cash from their tills. Both were brandishing handguns, pointing them one minute at whatever teller they were yelling at, and then at the people on the floor, just to make sure they weren’t sneaking up on them and trying something stupid.

They weren’t. Most of them were simply staring, in shock, at what was happening.

Peter turned his head toward the man overseeing it all, just as he pulled a radio and keyed it.

“What’s the hold up?”

If he were anyone else, Peter might not have been able to hear the reply. He _wasn't_, though, and his hearing was exceptional.

_“We can’t get into the vault.” _

“What? _Why_?”

_”There’s a timer. We-“ _

A siren outside made it impossible for Peter to focus on whatever else was said, and obviously the man with the shotgun – already edgy, certainly – heard them, as well, because he turned toward the bank entrance. Peter heard him swear when the wide glass entrance way was suddenly filled with police cars, lights and officers swarming the area like angry ants coming out of an anthill.

“Shit…”

The curse drew the attention of some of the people on the floor.

The man with the shotgun ignored them, but he pointed the gun at the closest – who just happened to be _Peter_. The other hand brought the radio back to his mouth.

“Come back. The cops are here.” Then he threw the radio to the side, where it clattered across the marble floor, and looked around at the people on the floor. His gaze fell on Peter. “You. Get up – slowly – and go lock the door. Run and I’ll kill your friend, here. Understand?”

Peter nodded, looking at Ned as he eased to his feet. Watching the gun, and the masked face of the man holding it, he edged past the weapon and walked slowly toward the doors. The floor was littered with broken glass from the decorative doors that had been damaged at the sudden entrance of the robbers, but the stout doors that were designed to keep the public out after banking hours were wide open and undamaged.

He saw the police outside, filling the street and the sidewalk on the other side of the street – already talking to the security guard, who was waving his arms and pointing at the building, clearly describing what had happened. Every police officer had a gun out and was looking at the building – and at Peter when he made his appearance at the doorway.

It was so much like a movie that Peter wouldn’t have been surprised to see someone hiding behind one of the police cruisers to pull out a bull-horn. Instead, when they noticed him at the door, several of the police officers gestured for him to get over to them. He simply shook his head, silently, and closed and locked the doors before turning and looking at the man with the shotgun.

“Back in here, _now_,” came the command.

As Peter walked back across the lobby, the man in the mask looked at the others. “Congratulations, you are all now hostages.” He gestured with the shotgun. “I want you all to go sit against the wood paneling, there. Everyone move, slowly, and don’t say a word.”

Peter watched as Ned and the others eased to their feet, carefully, watching the masked man with the shotgun, even while the other robbers all moved to join him. Peter made sure to put himself between Ned and the weapon (just because he knew his friend could be a little animated when he was excited and he didn’t want Ned to draw any attention if he twitched or something).

“We need to take care of the security cameras,” one of the men said to the leader, who nodded.

“Do it.”

As Ned seated himself next to the woman who had been so helpful, and Peter sat down beside him, two of the bank robbers went around the room and covered each security camera with a little cloth baggie, effectively blinding each one.

_“Hello in the bank!” _

The leader turned at the sound of the magnified voice coming from outside, but he didn’t go anywhere near the doors – and Peter saw that he was being careful to stay out of any possible line of sight of a potential sharp-shooter.

Clearly the guy had seen as many bank robbery movies as Peter had – or he had done it before, and just knew what he was doing. He waited for the call to come again, and then turned to the others in masks, waiting for the last camera to be covered.

“What do we do, now, Gus?”

There was a pause, and then the gun was suddenly pointed at Ned.

“We send a message.”

Peter and Ned both froze.

“Get up, kid,” the one named Gus said, gesturing with the barrel of the shotgun he was holding.

Pretending to misunderstand, Peter stood, trying to protect his friend. Ned stood, as well.

“Not you. Sit down.”

“But-“

One of the others walked over and kicked Peter’s legs out from under him, grabbed Ned by the shirt and half-dragged him over to the other, while Gus snapped his fingers at yet another.

“Bring me a piece of paper.”

The man went to the desk Peter and Ned had been at when the robbery started, picked up a deposit slip and snapped the chain holding the pen in place.

“You’re going to go outside, kid,” Gus said, looking at Ned and taking the pen and paper and writing something on it, folding it and then handing it to Ned. “Give this to whoever is in charge. Tell them I let you go – as an act of _good faith_ – but if they try anything stupid, I’ll kill everyone else in this building. Got it?”

Ned hesitated, looking at Peter.

“I can’t-“

“He’s _got_ it,” Peter said, quickly, shooing Ned away before he could say anything noble and get himself injured – or worse.

The man with the shotgun scowled – Peter could see it even though all he could see were his eyes.

“Last chance to deliver my message and leave here without injury,” he said, his voice dangerously low. “Or I’ll simply put a hole in your chest, stuff the note in it and toss you out the door.”

“Yeah. I’ll deliver it,” Ned said, quickly, reaching for the note.

Peter watched as Ned walked toward the door, and then out. He was followed by one of the robbers, who used Ned as a shield as the boy walked to the door itself. Then he unlocked it and pushed Ned through, closing and locking the door, quickly, before hurrying back to the main bank lobby.

“Your friend came _really_ close to pissing me off,” the man told Peter, who jerked his gaze from the little he could see outside where Ned was being swarmed by the police, and looking up at the robber, instead.

He wasn’t completely sure if that actually warranted a response – or if the man even _wanted_ one.

“Oh.”

It made him sound stupid, he was sure, but it seemed to be enough to satisfy the guy, because he turned to the others, who were now gathering around.

“What are we going to do?” One asked. “The whole thing has gone to shit, Gus. We-“

“Shut up. We’re going to be fine.” He pulled off his mask, revealing a pale, lean face, scraggly dark hair and mean little dark eyes. “Make sure we have all the entrances locked – use whatever you need to secure them. I don’t want the cops sneaking in the back door.”

The others all pulled their masks off, as well, revealing a myriad of faces – all male, all around the same age. All looked hard, but Peter decided that he probably wasn’t an expert.

“We have the bank assistant manager,” one said. “She said the vault is on a _time lock_ – and that it needs a key that only the armored car people have.”

“Then we wait for the police to call us, we get that key and wait for the time to go by. I want into that vault.”

“I didn’t sign on to hold hostages…” one of the men muttered. “That’s dangerous shit.”

“You can leave any time,” their leader said, gesturing toward the door – and all the police.

The man scowled, looking at Peter and the woman sitting next to him.

“How long until the time lock opens?” He asked one of the others.

“Six am tomorrow.”

“Seriously?”

“It doesn’t matter,” the leader said. “We just keep cool, keep everyone where they are and no one gets hurt.”

“The cops are going to call in the SWAT team, or something.”

“Big deal. SWAT is easy – as long as we have hostages to use as cover.”

“And if they call someone _else_?” One asked.

The leader shrugged.

“It’s not like the Avengers are on speed dial, or anything. Not for a bank robbery.”

One of the others barked a laugh at that, and just for shits and giggles, apparently, kicked Peter’s foot.

“Hear that, kid? I hope you’re not waiting for the Avengers to come to your rescue…”


	3. 3

Ned found himself being inundated with a barrage of questions as the police looked him over to make sure he wasn't injured. One took the paper from him, and handed it over to a higher ranking officer that had just made it to the scene.

“What does it say?” someone asked, as another asked Ned his name, and began asking about what he knew of what was going on inside the bank. “

’Call for our demands in 20 minutes. Anything stupid, everyone dies.’”

“They threatened to kill me,” Ned said, looking back over his shoulder toward the building. “And they threatened my friend, Peter.”

His eyes were wide, and he turned back to the police.

“We have to call Tony Stark.”

The police rolled their eyes, amused despite the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s a _bank heist_, kid,” one of them said, not unkindly – he was well aware that the teenager was probably in shock or something. “It’s not really a job for _Ironman_.”

“No. Seriously…”

They wouldn’t listen to him, though. They asked him how many people he’d seen; how man robbers, how many customers and asked if anyone had been injured.

“We have video on the inside,” another said, coming up and carrying a tablet. “But it looks like they’ve covered all the cameras.”

“They did,” Ned confirmed. “With bags. There are five of them – with all kinds of guns. They had masks on, but one called the guy in charge ‘Gus’ and they had all of us sitting along the counter.”

“How many people?”

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Ten? Fifteen? My friend, Peter… you _have_ to call Tony Stark. Please. He’s going to want to know-“

“Easy, kid. Let’s call your folks, first, okay? Then we’ll see about calling Stark.”

“But-“

A paramedic was suddenly there, and a firefighter, and both took charge of the boy, leading him over to a near-by ambulance, double-checking him for injuries – even though he said he was fine. Ned looked at the medic.

“Can I borrow your phone, please?” he asked, politely, as she put a blood pressure cuff on his arm. “They took mine.”

“Want to call your mom?” she asked, understandingly, as she pulled it out and handed it to him.

“Something like that.”

><>><><><><> 

_“Incoming call from Laura Cooper.”_

Tony frowned, sliding his finger along a display, and seeing a picture of a woman that he knew he didn’t know come up on the screen. A driver’s license photo.

“Who is she?”

Her stats came up; name, address, phone number, place of employment and various family members. Tony didn’t have anything in common with any of it – and knew that he didn’t know any EMTs.

_“Laura Cooper.”_

The billionaire rolled his eyes.

“Thanks for the info. Put her through. _Hello_?”

_“Mr. Stark?”_

Tony frowned, because that voice definitely didn’t match the picture that he was looking at.

“Yes…? Who is this?” Then he figured it out. “_Ned_?”

“_Yeah_.” The boy’s voice suddenly broke, a little. ”_You gotta come, Mr. Stark,”_ Ned said. _”They have Peter.”_

“What?” Tony started manipulating the display, even as he asked, immediately telling FRIDAY to trace Peter’s cell. The small blip came up instantly, showing his location at the bank – just where he was supposed to be. A quick command brought up the video footage from the security cameras in the building – and they were all dark. “What’s going on, Ned?” Tony asked. “What do you mean? Who has Peter?”

><><><><>> 

“How many?”

“Including the toddler? _Seventeen_.”

“That one goes, first.”

“Agreed.”

The leader – Gus – turned toward the people who were sitting on the floor with their backs against the wooden paneling of the cashier’s cages. The other robbers fanned out, all of them pointing weapons at the hostages.

“Ladies and gentlemen. There are seventeen hostages in this room. You’re going to be here, overnight, or until we get our demands met. Yes, it sucks for you, and you can thank whoever it is that triggered the silent alarm for the inconvenience…” It was clear that if he knew who had done it, _he’d_ thank them himself. “There will be no speaking to each other, and no moving around unless you’re given permission. We’ll allow bathroom privileges, since I’m not a _monster_. However… If I count heads, again, and anyone is missing, I’m going to kill someone. So I suggest no one try to sneak off when using the bathroom. Understood?”

There were a lot of scared looks and a few nods.

“Good. Now… I’m going to ask – _nicely_ – once. Does anyone have a cell phone hidden on them that they _forgot_ to hand over? Because if I find someone using one – I’ll kill the people who were sitting next to that person.” he paused for effect. “Anyone?”

There was a slight pause, and then the woman that had been so helpful to Peter and Ned raised a slightly trembling hand.

“Yes?”

“I have a pager…” she said, softly, reaching into her purse and holding it up. “I don’t know if that counts.”

Better safe than sorry was the obvious vibe they were all getting.

They took it from her with a glare, and there was a sudden spate of angry screaming only a few people away from where Peter was sitting. The aforementioned toddler was trying to break free of her mother’s arms, clearly restless, and the mother looked at the men, terrified, as she tried to calm the little girl.

“Get her under control,” Gus said, menacingly. “I’m not going to-“

There was the sound of a phone ringing, and he pulled it out of his pocket without finishing the threat.

“Yeah?”

Peter wasn't the only one watching as he held a one-sided conversation – although his hearing made it easy enough for the boy to hear some of what was being said on the other end. It was obviously a police officer, or something, asking if the hostages were safe, and what their demands were.

“I want the vault opened,” came the immediate reply. “Figure out how to do it before the timer in the morning. Otherwise, I’m keeping everyone in here until it opens. I don’t care if it takes a week.”

The conversation continued, but now it was the police making a few demands of their own.

_The hostages need to be taken care of. Do any of them have health issues? Heart problems?_

“I’m not worried about any of that.”

_And if someone has a heart-attack and dies?_

Gus rolled his eyes, looking at the group in front of him.

“They all look healthy.”

_Please ask._

The leader scowled.

“It will be a hell of an inconvenience to me, but do any of you have any _health_ issues I need to know about?”

The mother of the restless toddler hesitantly raised her hand.

“What?” he asked.

“I’m diabetic.”

“What the hell does that mean?”

“My pancrease doesn’t produce-“

“I _know_ what diabetes is,” he interrupted. “What does it mean to _me_? Are you going to die on me?”

She looked afraid to reply, hugging her little girl closer – much to the discomfort of the child, who was struggling to get free.

“Answer him,” one of the other men ordered, waving his gun and looking a little scared.

“I just need to keep my blood sugar level.”

“How?”

“By eating.”

Gus scowled and then shrugged, putting the phone back to his ear.

“We need food. Burgers, tacos, I don’t give a shit what.”

He looked at the woman.

“Will that work?”

She nodded.

He looked at the others.

“Anyone else?”

“I’m a vegetarian,” one of the men said.

“I don’t give a flying fuck.”

“We should just let her go,” one of the others said, pointing his gun at the diabetic mother. “I don’t like having the kid in here.”

“And then we let someone go because they’re young?” Gus asked, scornfully. “Or old? Pretty soon we’re down to shit for hostages and they’re storming the building. Shut your mouth and let me do the thinking. Got it?”

The man backed down, immediately, but he glared at the young woman, who was still trying to calm her child, and their leader looked at the others.

“Find out where the bathrooms are,” he ordered. “Make sure there isn’t anything in them that can be used as a weapon – and that there aren’t any windows.”

One of the men nodded and vanished through a side door, and Gus looked at the hostages.

“Everyone relax, alright? We’re going to be here a while.”

No one did, though.

Not even the other bank robbers.

><><><><><>< 

“There’s a news truck outside.”

“What? How do you know?”

Gus walked over to one of his men, looking at the display on the tablet that he was browsing through, and then scowling. He looked around for just a moment, found the remote to the very large TV on the wall that the bank had put up to keep people in line from getting so bored they left and took their money with them.

He turned the channel, switching it from a financial show over to the local affiliate and was immediately rewarded with a shot of the outside of the bank and all of the activity going on.

“Perfect,” he said, smirking. “Now we can see what they’re doing.”

“Is there a SWAT team, yet?” the nervous-looking robber asked.

“I don’t see one,” was the reply. “They probably don’t even have one lined up – or maybe they’re somewhere else, just now. We might get out of this without even talking to one of them.”

><><><><>> 

A police officer had come to check on Ned at the ambulance, and to see if there was any more information that they might be able to get out of him about the people involved. The boy handed the paramedic her phone back and was practically dragged back to where the police were setting up a command center in a large van that was well away from the center of the street that had been cordoned off by several police cruisers on one side and a fire truck on the other.

“The SWAT team is assembling,” someone was saying as they led Ned toward the van. “They’re fifteen minutes out, but they’ll be here. We have sharpshooter on the roof, and-“

The man trailed off, looking skyward – as did several others around him, drawn by the sound of thrusters – and then by the blazing light that trailed across the sky, well above most of the buildings, but easy enough to spot.

“What the hell…?”

“Holy shit…”

Ned looked up, too, and he was the only one smiling when the Ironman suit came in for a landing, the pose picture perfect, and the new armor gleaming in the waning afternoon sun. The helmet retracted as the nanotech retreated, and Tony Stark’s handsome face looked around, spotting Ned, immediately, since FRIDAY had already found him on their way in.

He turned and walked toward the boy, and all of the police officers that were around the command center.

“What’s going on, Ned?”


	4. 4

It was inevitable that the people in the bank knew about Ironman’s arrival the moment the police and everyone outside the bank did. There was a news crew there, after all, as had already been mentioned, and the cameraman was quick and extremely good at his job. When Ironman landed in the street, even though it was behind some of the police cars, the news camera caught it – and several things happened at once.

“Holy _shit_!”

Even as one of the robbers spoke, the toddler in her mother’s embrace seemed to realize that she was distracted and seized the chance to break free of the woman’s grasp, tumbling from her arms into a squealing tangle of little arms and legs. When the woman instinctively lunged for the child, every gun turned that direction and the more nervous of the intruders actually fired a shot before he even realized what he was doing – he was just that unnerved and hair-triggered.

Peter had reacted immediately, and without thinking. Unbelievably quick, and warned by the inner tingling that May called his _Peter Tingle_ – although he definitely preferred Ned’s description of _Spider_ _Senses_ – he’d responded even before the gun had gone off, diving to move the toddler from danger and yelping when the bullet found its mark.

The gunshot was shockingly loud in the confines of the bank. And only somewhat muffled by the building to those outside.

><><><>>> 

Tony automatically moved, placing his armored body between the bank and Ned, while the police around them – and _everyone else_ – ducked, automatically behind patrol cars and other barriers at the sound.

“What the hell?” The Ironman helmet activated, once more, even as Tony pushed Ned to the ground and held him there. “FRIDAY? What do you got?”

_“Single gunshot from inside the building.”_

“Injuries?”

He was obviously immediately thinking of Peter – well aware of the fact that the boy was a magnet for trouble and almost instinctively assuming that it was Peter.

The AI and the sensors in the suit were quick – and a bank wall wasn't an impediment. The HUD brought up the inner schematics of the bank lobby, showing every person in the area; those with guns and those without.

And one slight figure sprawled on the floor.

_”It’s Peter.”_

><><><><> 

“Are you out of your _mind_?!” Gus shouted, making the underling flinch and actually drop his gun from fingers that were already nerveless.

The mother grabbed her child, wrapping her in her arms and turning, placing herself between the men and her baby, while all the other guns in the room turned on the hostages – who were frozen in shock at the sudden turn of events.

“They startled me,” the man said, reaching for his gun.

“Leave it,” Gus told him, training the shotgun on the others while leaning over and picking up the weapon. “Check the kid, God damn it.”

><><><><> 

“Stats?”

_”Single GSW to the chest. Superficial – for the most part, hit his ribs and looks like the bullet is embedded in the cartilage between the third and fourth rib. No damage to any organs.”_

“Thank God.”

_”He’s bleeding, seriously, though.”_

Tony watched as the men inside the building rolled the boy, obviously administering first aid. He wanted to blast through the building and go save Peter, but was realistic enough to know that doing so would put the rest of the people in the building in danger – probably causing more injuries. FRIDAY hadn’t missed the fact that there was a _child_ in the bank, as well.

“Keep monitoring Peter’s health,” he said. “If he takes any turn for the worst, notify me, immediately.”

_”Will do.”_

“And call Natasha – see what her ETA is.”

Bank jobs weren’t normally a job for the Avengers, but it was _Peter_, and that made all the difference.

The helmet disengaged, again, and Tony looked at Ned, whose eyes were wide.

“You okay?”

The boy nodded.

“Is Peter okay?”

Obviously, Ned knew that his friend was a magnet for the worst that can happen, too.

“Yeah,” Tony lied. “He’s fine.”

><><><>><> 

The man who shot him pulled up Peter’s shirt, which was soaked in the boy’s blood.

“He’s _bleeding_.”

“No shit, Sherlock,” Gus said. “Put some pressure on it.”

The woman who had been sitting next to Peter spoke up. She’d started to move forward, earlier, but the guns facing them all had held her in place.

“I’m an ER nurse. I could help.”

Gus nodded.

“Do it – no sudden moves.”

She nodded and moved forward, already reaching for Peter’s wrist to check his pulse. The boy moaned at the touch, and she shushed him, gently.

“What’s your name, honey?” she asked, her fingers forcing his eyelids open, checking the reactions.

“Peter.”

“You’re going to be fine, Peter.” She looked at the man who was also kneeling beside her. “I need scissors, and bandages.”

The man scowled at being ordered around, but responded almost automatically. He looked at one of the bank employees.

“Where’s the first aid kit?”

The man pointed.

“Behind the counter.”

“Get it.”

><><><><> 

“What happened?” Tony asked Ned, although he was looking at the police, as well.

“We were depositing Peter’s paycheck and they came rushing in and yelling. They wanted to get into the vault, but one of them said that it was on a time lock and couldn’t be opened by the woman that works at the bank. Then they were talking, but suddenly the police showed up.”

“We responded to a silent alarm,” the officer in charge said, speaking up, now that Ned had finished. “SWAT is on their way.”

“You’re the negotiator?” Stark asked.

“Until someone higher up than myself gets here.”

“What have they demanded?”

“They want into the vault.”

“What’s in it?”

There was money in the bank, of course, in the teller’s drawers, and the outer areas. Tony knew that, of course. He’d been in the bank several times. If the bank robbers had been after _money_, then they should have grabbed what they could and taken off.

“No clue. Normally it’s safe deposit boxes and cash. We’re waiting for a manager from the bank to come and give us more information – and we’ve ordered up the specifications of the building, looking for any back doors we can exploit.”

Tony nodded, looking at Ned.

“You called your mom?”

“Yes.”

Stark looked at the officer in charge.

“Get someone to take him home, will you?”

“But-“

Ned didn’t want to leave, and it was obvious Tony raised his still armored hand to stop the protest before it could start.

“I _can’t_ have you here, buddy. Sorry. The minute we get everyone out, I’ll let you know.”

“But Peter’s in there, still…”

“I know.”

Did he ever.

><><><><>>< 

“What’s the plan?” Tony asked as Ned was being put into a patrol car to get a ride home.

The officer was a little awed, still, being next to Tony Stark, but he was getting over it and his professionalism was taking charge, once more. He held up a phone.

“I’m going to call and make sure everyone’s alright in there.”

“They _aren’t_,” Tony said, leaning against the hood of the car, staying out of sight of the door of the bank, and away from the news cameras. He hadn’t wanted to mention it while Ned was there, but now it was safe – although he didn’t really _want_ to mention it, at all. “One of the hostages was shot.”

“How do-?” he cut off the question, remembering who he was talking to, and continued the call.

Tony didn’t have any trouble keeping up with the conversation as it unfolded.

“We heard a gunshot… is everyone alright?”

Never ask a question you don’t know the answer to, Tony knew.

_“One of the hostages was shot. They’re working on him.”_

“We could bring someone in.”

_“No chance in hell. There’s a nurse in here. She’s taking care of him. What’s going on out there?”_

“We’re waiting for a bank official to tell us how to get into the vault before morning.”

_“I saw Ironman…”_

The police officer looked at Tony, who shrugged.

“Yeah. He’s here.”

_“He comes anywhere near this place, I’ll kill everyone in the building”_

Tony’s expression grew angry, but the officer nodded.

“He just happened to be in the area and saw the commotion,” the cop lied. “He’s not going to do anything. What do we need for the injured hostage?”

><><><><><> 

Gus scowled, looking over at the woman on the floor next to the kid.

“How is he doing?”

“I need more bandages. He’s still bleeding – and the first aid kit isn’t designed for something this serious.” She looked over at him. “He _should_ be let go, so he can get real care.”

“That isn’t happening. Tell me what you need, and I’ll tell them,” he said, holding up the phone.

“Bandages, IV painkillers, antibiotics, saline, a GSW kit – and some blankets – a _lot_ of blankets.”

The bank robber spoke into the phone.

“You heard that?”

_“Yeah. We’ll have it in ten minutes.”_

“Don’t forget _food_,” he said, looking at the mother of the toddler, who was clutching her child and rocking her – watching as they took care of Peter. “Whatever is good for a diabetic.”

He didn’t care what they ate, after all – he wasn't going to eat, most likely, anyway. He wasn't there for a free meal.

_“We’re on it.”_

The call ended.


	5. 5

It was twelve minutes later when the call came in announcing they had everything ready and were waiting at the bottom of the steps that led to the bank. Gus motioned for one of his men and the mother of the toddler, who was now asleep in her arms.

“You two go get it – we’ll keep your kid, to make sure you don’t try anything stupid.”

Another of the robbers walked over and took the toddler from her, carefully. Probably not so much to keep from hurting the child, or scaring the mother, but because none of them wanted the kid awake and screaming.

Including the bad guys.

She didn’t argue, although it was obvious that she was reluctant to allow them to take her baby from her. The other hostages watched as the woman and the minion walked to the entrance. They vanished out the door, and returned a moment later, laden with large bags of supplies, which were brought to the middle of the room and set at Gus’s feet.

The mother took her baby back, and went back to her spot without being told, cooing to the toddler who had roused when they’d transferred her. There was a soft moan, which drew everyone’s attention to the boy who was being worked on, and he gasped and opened his eyes with a soft cry of pain.

The nurse was quick to try and reassure. She put her hand on his shoulder.

“Easy, honey,” she murmured. “Stay still.”

“Hurts…”

“I know. You’re going to be fine. Stay still.”

“Where’s Tony?”

Assuming that he meant the friend that had been released, she squeezed his shoulder, lightly.

“He’s outside. He’s safe.”

><><><><> 

Tony had his helmet engaged as he watched the bank robber and the woman creep out of the door, cautiously, and pick up the bags that had been placed at the steps. Unlike the police, Tony had been able to watch the others take the child from her – which he had to admit was smart. _Bastardly_, of course, but smart. The woman wasn't going to make a break for things if her kid was in the building, still.

“What do you see?” the police officer asked, well aware that he had the helmet on for a reason.

“They’re not stupid,” Tony told him, still watching, even as they returned to the others and started looking through the supplies. Even better, he saw Peter finally move – something that FRIDAY had been watching for, but hadn’t reported, yet. “Any idea what’s in the vault, yet?”

“The bank manager is arriving, now,” he was told. “We’ll find out.”

>><><><>< 

They had blankets, now. A lot of blankets. The nurse was showing the attitude that made her efficient in the emergency room, and she started ordering people around, including the bank robbers. In only minutes, Peter was eased onto a makeshift bed of blankets, which would be more comfortable than being on the marble floor. His head was resting on another folded one, and she had cut his shirt off, revealing a very skinny but wiry, muscular frame and a set of abs that made all of the bank robbers suck their own guts in a little as they walked around.

The nurse had given him a shot for pain, another for potential infection, and was administering an IV into his arm, all the while talking to him, and reassuring him.

“Are you allergic to anything, honey?” she asked him, now carefully checking under the bloody bandages to look at the wound in his chest.

“I need _Tony_,” Peter answered, proving that he wasn't entirely coherent, just then.

“I need you to answer me,” she told him, sternly, keeping his eyes on her. “Any allergies?”

“I don’t like green beans…”

She rolled her eyes, looking at Gus.

“He’s delirious.”

“No _shit_. Is he still bleeding?”

“It’s not as bad. He’d be better off in a _hospital_. Mine is just down the street, and –“

“That isn’t going to happen.” The leader of the bank robber had no intention of letting anyone else go. Not if he didn’t have to. He looked at the others. “Start feeding them.”

><><><><><>< 

The bank manager was in shock already from having his bank being the center of a robbery attempt – and now a _hostage situation_. It was only added to when the man suddenly found himself talking not only to the police but also to _Tony Stark_ – although Tony wasn't asking the question, content (for the moment) to hang back and listen to the answers.

“They’re determined to get into the vault,” the police officer in charge said. “To the point that they’re willing to take and hold hostages. What’s in it?”

Ready for the question and knowing the answer before he even looked, the manager glanced at a tablet that he’d brought with him, presumably with an inventory – but mostly to give himself time to decide to tell the truth. It was the police, after all.

“We keep our safe deposit boxes in the vault, as well as cash reserves, of course.” He hesitated. “But they’re probably after the Kline Diamond. We’re holding it for safe keeping before it’s auctioned off next week.”

“A diamond?” the police officer repeated, incredulously. “All this for a _rock_?”

“The Kline Diamond makes the Hope Diamond look like a bauble,” Tony said, speaking up before the bank manager could. “It’s worth millions – even if they cut it down to disguise it.”

He wasn't a jeweler, of course, but he knew expensive things – and someone had mentioned that it was going to be going up for auction, in case he’d been keen to own something so valuable. It wasn't an investment that he was interested in having but there was always the chance – one of the very few drawbacks to being ultra-rich.

The bank manager nodded.

“He’s right.”

“So we get the vault open and give it to them and they let the hostages go…” the officer said.

The manager hesitated again.

“It isn’t there. We’re a _decoy_.”

“What do you mean?”

There was an interruption as the SWAT team arrived, their big vehicle and van causing a scene as heavily armored men and women came pouring out and started forming a perimeter, while a steely-haired man spoke with someone, who gestured toward the police officer Tony was talking to with the bank manager.

The man walked over, his eyes not missing Tony’s presence, obviously, and he immediately asked for an update on what was going on. His expression grew hard when he heard what the manager had to say.

“So if they find out, we can expect to have some very angry would-be bank robbers.”

“Yes,” the police officer agreed.

“So we don’t let them find out,” the man said. “The hostages would be in a lot more danger if they aren’t going to be useful for leverage.”

“Right.”

The SWAT commander looked at Stark.

“What’s your interest in this?”

“One of the hostages is my intern,” Tony told him, Peter never far from his thoughts, even as FRIDAY was constantly monitoring his condition. “He’s been shot.”

The commander frowned.

“Killed?”

“No.” Tony would have torn the place apart and leveled the bank to get at the one who had done it if that had been the case. He couldn’t hide the relief in his expression. “He’s stable.”

“How do you know that?”

“My AI is monitoring him.”

“From here?”

“Yes.”

“So you can see inside?”

“Yes. And I can tell you exactly where everyone is – when you need that information.”

The commander’s expression changed, just a little.

“I assume that means we can count on your help with this?”

“You can.”

There was another commotion, just then, and Tony found that he suddenly had company standing beside him, flanking him. One was Natasha Romanoff, and the other was Steve Rogers.

“Among _others_,” Tony added.

><><><><>> 

“We lost the news feed…” one of the robbers said, unnecessarily.

All of them could see that the man who had been reporting from outside the bank was now gone, replaced by news anchors who were in the studio. The nonstop footage of the activities going on outside the bank was no longer being broadcast.

“Someone got smart,” Gus said, scowling. “And figured it out.” He shrugged. “We don’t _need_ them. They’re not going to do anything stupid. Not with our hostages.”

The supplies had included a lot of boxes of sandwiches and chips and sodas – with thermoses of coffee and paper cups. The robbers had handed it out, but none of the hostages were eating – except for the toddler, who was cheerfully eating some potato chips and gnawing on a sandwich.

The nurse was continually checking Peter’s condition, but never lifted the bloody bandages, preferring to allow the wound to clot if it could. The boy roused, and she offered him a sip of water, but didn’t want them to feed him anything.

“Where’s Tony?” Peter asked, wincing at the stinging pain in his chest and looking up at her, his expression glazed from pain – and the medication she’d given him. “He should be here, soon.”

“Shut him _up_,” Gus said.

The nurse his a scowl – like it was the kid’s fault? Instead, she ran a wet cloth along Peter’s forehead and cheek.

“He’s outside, honey. They let him go.”

“They never _had_ him…” Peter told her, his eyes dull with pain and when he looked at her, she knew he wasn't all there, still. “He can’t be caught. He’s Ironm -“

“_Shut up_!” one of the robbers snapped, tired of hearing the ramblings – and a little scared because _he_ was the one who had shot the kid, in the first place, and if he died, it was on him. He aimed a kick at Peter’s leg, just trying to shock him out of his delirium, and Peter groaned when he was jarred, even as the nurse protested the cavalier treatment of her patient. “No one wants to hear about your buddy Tony!”


	6. 6

FRIDAY didn’t miss the kick, and she was a tattletale. Tony scowled when he received the message, looking at Romanoff and Steve – and the SWAT guy.

“What happened?” Natasha asked, recognizing that he was upset – and immediately worried that the worst had happened.

It was Peter, after all.

He told them, although they didn’t have audio inside the building, only the information that FRIDAY afforded him – and he was more than willing to share with them.

“We need to get him out of there before they do something stupid,” Tony said. “With the rest of the hostages intact, as well.”

Romanoff nodded her agreement, but she and the other Avengers all knew that this wasn't their jurisdiction, and as such, even though any of them were definitely qualified for the kind of ops that was needed to free the hostages and take out the robbers, they would defer to the local law enforcement officers.

Rogers looked at the SWAT commander.

“Do you have a plan?”

The man nodded.

“If we can use your intel, yes. We don’t dare wait until morning.”

It was already starting to get dark and since the vault didn’t have the jewel that the robbers thought it did, they were bound to get annoyed – or desperate. Both weren’t the frame of mind that they wanted people with guns to be in when they were near helpless civilians. Especially an innocent child – and Peter, who was a favorite with all of them.

Romanoff looked over to where Clint and a couple of SHIELD agents had stopped the live news broadcast from giving the rest of the world information that they didn’t need, just then, ignoring the protests coming from the cameraman and the reporter about freedom of the press and the peoples’ right to know what was going on. The camera had been taken from the cameraman, and a look from Clint had been all that it took to keep him from protesting further.

“What kind of force are we looking at?” she asked, curiously.

“Let’s try not to kill them,” Steve said, looking at the SWAT commander, who nodded his agreement.

“We have just the thing,” he assured them. “We just need to make sure that we have the locations of everyone – hostages and captors, alike. The bank has a hidden entrance for just this kind of situation. We go through it with a small force, with a distraction at the front. If we do it right, they won’t know what hit them.”

“Perfect.” Natasha looked at Tony. “You have the inside mapped out, yet?”

Tony nodded, too, and pulled out his own tablet, which was never far from his reach.

“Of course. FRIDAY, bring up the inside of the bank,” he said, ignoring the impressed looks of the police and the SWAT guy at the technology that he was using.

This was daily routine for him and the Avengers, after all.

><><><><> 

They started letting the hostages go use the bathroom. One at a time and with two robbers escorting them. It was necessary, really, because the last thing they wanted was to have people going in their pants and stinking the place up just because they were too afraid to ask for permission.

The robbers also made sure that the diabetic mother actually ate what had been given to her, even though they didn’t bother monitoring the food intake of the others. If they didn’t eat, they could go hungry. It wasn't going to leave them passed out on the floor, or something.

The nurse was reluctant to leave her patient’s side, despite the fact that _she_ needed to go. Her expression showed quite clearly that she didn’t trust the robbers to treat him with the same care that she was – and with obvious reason. Gus sent her off with a less than gentle shove, kneeling down beside Peter with his knee on the boy’s shoulder to hold him in place until the woman returned only a few minutes later.

“Settle them in for the night,” he told his partners, standing up once more and walking over to the table that he was using for his few items of equipment.

More blankets were handed out to the hostages, now, and while the floor was hard, no one complained. There wasn't any conversation while they wrapped themselves with blankets, and the toddler had already fallen asleep once more, luckily. Peter whimpered, and tossed a little, surprising the nurse by just how strong he was in his delirium.

“How is he doing?” Gus asked, setting his shotgun down on the table and walking over to where the boy was laying – recognizing that the boy was restless; his injury making him irritable and uncomfortable enough that he wasn't able to be still, no matter how much she tried to soothe him.

“He’s beginning to present with a fever,” she replied, wiping the boy’s face with the ever present wet cloth. “It’s not dangerous, yet, but it _will_ be if we can’t keep it down.”

“Give him something for it.”

“I _have_. It’s from the gunshot wound. Until the bullet is removed, he isn’t going to get any better.”

He started to say something, but was interrupted by the sound of broken glass. A sudden sharp crack that sounded something like a muffled explosion. He lunged for the shotgun – and the others went for weapons that they, too, had put aside or tucked into pockets – when a small device soared into the room, hovering.

Out of nowhere three forms were suddenly coming from behind the massive counter behind them, as well. Three forms that were dressed all in black and holding weapons that were trained on the hostage-takers.

“What the-“

Before the words would form, there was another crack, this one louder, and everything went white – and then black – and Gus toppled to the floor, grabbing his head.

>><><><><> 

Romanoff waited for the last of the people to pass out, including the hostages, unfortunately, and then disengaged the high frequency emitter before she took her earplugs out of both ears. She triggered her radio.

“We’re clear in here,” she said, watching as the SWAT specialists who had accompanied her and Steve into the back door now started making their own calls, and then dropping down to the floor to check Peter. “Bring in the medics.”

They were going to need a lot of them.

And a lot of stretchers. She was pretty sure none of them would wake up any time soon. If she had her way, none of the hostage-takers would. Especially the one that had shot Peter.

"Is Peter alright?" she heard Tony ask, even though she knew he had the tech trained on his young protégé to make sure that he didn't take a turn for the worst.

She nodded, running her hand along the boy's cheek, feeling the warmth of the fever, but not too concerned. He was a tough guy, she knew.

"Yeah. He's fine. Come see for yourself."

He was going to, anyway, she knew.


	7. 7

A soft touch to his cheek drew Peter slowly out of a restless sleep.

He opened his eyes, aware of an ache in his chest and some beeping close at hand, even as he realized that it was Tony Stark who was touching him, sitting on the edge of the bed that Peter was in, leaning over and watching him.

The billionaire smiled when he saw Peter open his eyes.

“Hey… there you are… about time you woke up.”

“Tony…”

He frowned up at the man, who scooted closer, now, looking down at him, his intense brown eyes watching his every move. Looking for any sign of discomfort.

“Yep. Good morning, sunshine. How do you feel?”

“Sore. Tired.” He frowned, suddenly remembering what had happened as it all came back to him in a rush, now that his mind was waking up, too. “I was in the bank.”

Tony nodded, brushing Peter’s hair back from his forehead.

“Yes. You were.”

“There were men with guns.”

“Right, again.”

Tony wasn't in any hurry. He let Peter tell him what he wanted to tell him, knowing that it would help the boy if he was allowed to sort out what had happened.

“You rescued us?”

Peter didn’t remember anything. His head was aching a bit, but his chest hurt a lot more than that – and he was so tired that _none_ of it really seemed so terrible, just then.

“Not me. I provided the intelligence to let the SWAT and Natasha know where everyone was located – and to guide them through the bolt door – but it was Romanoff, Steve, and the SWAT guys actually went in. You know how they like doing all the commando stuff…”

That made Peter smile, sleepily, because he _did_ know. And why not? They were good at it, after all.

“You didn’t…?”

“We couldn’t risk me going in, since the Ironman suit isn’t exactly designed for stealth, right? Need something blown up, call me. Need something sneaky, call someone who isn’t bristling with rockets.”

Peter nodded.

“Good point.” He closed his eyes, but reached for Tony’s hand to make sure he didn’t leave. Peter wasn't a demanding kid, but just then, he didn’t feel good and he was hurting He definitely didn’t want Tony to leave, just then. “Is everyone alright?”

“Yeah, Peter. They’re _fine_. You’ll be in the hospital for a little while, but probably not as long as the regular doctors think, but you were the only one who took any real damage.”

“How did they get us out?” he asked. “They had guns, everywhere.”

He definitely remembered that much.

“The SWAT guys had a sonic emitter. They waited until I told them no one had a gun pointed at anyone, and then tossed it in with a drone, just as the infiltration was set to go. Everyone not wearing earplugs was knocked out – including the hostages, unfortunately. But they’re alright, now. Just some lingering headaches. Better than still being in the bank – everyone agrees on that.”

Peter agreed, too.

“Ned’s okay?”

“Yeah. You know Ned; it was a big adventure to him. He’s fine. So is the little kid that you saved.”

Peter opened his eyes, again.

“You heard about that?”

Tony smiled.

“Of course. You’ve been out almost 24 hours, Peter. I’ve heard everything that happened.”

And he’d poured over the little video footage they had – as well as talking to Ned, more than once. And the other people who had been in the bank. Not to mention the ER nurse who had taken care of Peter once he’d been injured.

Tony would make sure that she was set for life for that good deed.

“I think I asked for you…”

“You _did_,” he confirmed. “But everyone thought you were asking about _Ned_.”

Tony was amused – now that he knew Peter was going to be alright, it was easier to find the humor in the fact that no one actually expected that the boy knew _Ironman_. Even the nurse that had taken care of him had assumed that Peter had been asking for his friend who had already been released, Tony had been told.

“Oh.”

“I’m _here_, though. You can relax, okay? Focus your energy on getting better.”

Peter nodded, but then he thought of something else.

“I think I lost my paycheck,” he said, mournfully, looking up at the billionaire.

Tony chuckled, and leaned over and pressed a light kiss gently against Peter’s forehead.

“It’s okay. We’ll have Pepper make you another one. Go to sleep.”

Peter didn’t have any choice, really. He was so tired. He closed his eyes, but didn’t let go of Tony’s hand, silently asking him not to leave. Tony had no intention of going anywhere, until the doctors made him – and none of them – _so far_ – had tried.

Instead, he shifted, just a little, and pulled out his phone with the hand that Peter wasn’t holding tight to. He’d make some calls to let everyone know Peter was awake, now, and they could all stop worrying about him. _And_ he’d call Pepper and ask her to set Peter up with direct deposit. A paycheck was all well and good, but he didn’t want the boy in the bank, again – at least not unless Tony, himself, was with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The End!
> 
> No epilogue on this one, since I like where I ended them, and they're in a good place for closure. Thanks for reading!


End file.
